


I'd Be Home With You

by halfabreath



Series: after the raven has had his say [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Rarepair, eventual OT4 - Freeform, farm au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:14:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfabreath/pseuds/halfabreath
Summary: Adam plays the FRIENDS theme song in the truck on their way to the market in retaliation, because sometimes that’s all you can do when your boyfriend is thoughtful and doles out crucial financial advice to keep your dairy cows from wandering away.





	I'd Be Home With You

**Author's Note:**

> "It's after six. What am I, a farmer?"
> 
> big ol’ thank you to @chocolatechipcookiesplease for listening while i hashed out this verse and to @teluete for the prompt "Why do I even bother?"

Adam might be a morning person - he’s a farmer, it comes with the territory - but his partner is not. Jack, inexplicably, is neither a morning person nor a night owl. Instead of thriving at a certain period of time, he just requires at least seven, preferably seven and a half, hours of sleep. His body usually doesn’t allow him to get more than that and if he gets less he’s impossible to wake without becoming irritable and grouchy.

The second Adam opens his eyes, he knows what kind of a day it’s going to be. He’s laying on his side, Jack’s arm draped over his waist. Jack’s pressed close, tucked up against Adam’s back, and when Adam shifts to turn off his alarm Jack doesn’t move at all. His breathing is even against the back of Adam’s neck, and there’s no harm in giving him another few minutes before they have to get up.

Adam reaches for his phone, content to scroll through trade speculations (there are rumors that Chris Chow might end up with the Falconers) or stream an episode of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ before waking the beast, but after he unlocks it with sleep-stupid fingers and adjusts the brightness, the page refuses to load. Adam stares at the blank, still-too-bright screen for a long moment, then drops the phone with a groan. There’s no service and the wifi’s out, leaving them technologically stranded in the wilderness. Sure, there’s the landline Jack insists on keeping, but Adam can’t watch 30 Rock through a Stone Age artifact, can he? They have to upgrade to a better plan. Adam can’t live like this - he _won’t_ live like this.

Annoyed, Adam picks up Jack’s arm by the wrist and tosses it behind him, letting it flop onto the mattress. He’s already sitting up by the time Jack reacts, burrowing into the pillows and wrapping his arm around Adam’s waist as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Nope,” Adam says, voice deeper than usual from a night of disuse. He removes Jack’s arm again, this time gently setting it on the bed. “I’m mad at you.” How did he manage to fall for someone who thinks the Internet is an optional amenity? Blasphemer.

“Oh, okay.” Jack mumbles, accepting the news easily. He rolls over, taking the blankets with him. Double blasphemer. Adam stares at the back of his head until his breathing evens out again, smiling softly despite his annoyance. Ugh, love. He pulls the blankets up over Jack’s shoulder and stands, stretching before beginning the day.

When Adam steps back in the house after feeding and milking the animals Jack is standing by the stove, stirring a pot of oatmeal. The sun is just beginning to rise, weak rays streaming through the blinds, but Adam only has eyes for the mug of tea waiting for him and the unfairly attractive man holding it. He tears off his boots and slides across the hardwood floors, coming to a stop just before he crashes into Jack. Just when he reaches for the mug, though, Jack pulls it back deftly. He moves the mug around, deftly keeping the hot liquid from sloshing over the sides, playing a quick game of keep-away until Adam pouts.

“Jack,” He whines, leaning to the side dramatically. “Why? Why are you like this?” Jack just grins and turns off the stove, still holding Adam’s beverage hostage.

“Why are you mad at me?” Jack asks calmly.

Adam rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter for support when the full-body motion disrupts his balance. “Jack Zimmermann, I cannot believe you’re willing to deprive me of sustenance in your sick manipulative mind-games.” Adam says, swiping at the mug in a lame attempt to take it back. Jack just raises an eyebrow and moves it further away.

“Tea doesn’t contain any proteins, carbohydrates, or calories.” Jack reminds him, the anchors of his lips curling up in his smug chirping smile.

“Emotional sustenance, then.” Adam amends, drawing himself up to his full height. He pulls two bowls down from the cabinet, setting them beside the stove for whenever Jack deigns to serve them. His partner waits patiently, leaning against the counter with that same smug expression. Adam sighs and opens a drawer, digging around for two spoons. “The wifi’s out again.” He says, letting the metal utensils clatter against the clay bowls. Jack hums and hands him the mug and turns back to the stove to begin portioning out the oatmeal.

“You’ve only been awake for an hour, Holtzy. When did you have time to use the internet?” Jack hands him a full bowl, their fingers brushing during the hand-off.

Adam immediately dumps cinnamon and honey into the oatmeal, mixing it in with more force than necessary. “When I woke up, obviously, and if we had service I could check traffic, e-mails, the weather, figure out where Chris Chow signed, if the world ended during the night or something. Important stuff!” He tosses in a handful of the blueberries Jack had set out, doing the same to Jack’s oatmeal as he speaks.

“No,” Jack steps into his space, reaching around him easily to pick up the jar of honey. “You wanted to watch the Forty Rocks and - ”

“Don’t you dare.” Adam says, interrupting Jack decisively. “Not under my roof.” He punctuates the words with a firm poke to Jack’s chest with the end of the spoon.

“Our roof,” Jack corrects, bumping against Adam easily on his way to the table. Adam groans and follows him, dropping into the chair across from him. “And you know we don’t need wifi. The money has to go towards things that keep the farm running, like new fences.” They’ve been over this too many times to count, but Adam rolls out his old argument anyway.

“Fences are dumb.” He says, brows knitting together in annoyance when Jack chimes in with him.

Jack continues, stirring his oatmeal in a perfect inward-outward spiral. “They’re your cows, Adam, and I know you don’t want them roaming away.”

Adam’s just taken a huge bite of oatmeal but he speaks through the inconvenience. “They would never.” He protests, the words only slightly muffled by the food in his mouth. He swallows quickly, hoping to continue before Jack chimes in again, but he’s too late.

“They would, actually.” Jack says. “The pasture fences are on their last legs and if we save the money we were using on premium wifi we can repair them this fall.” He’s had to make the same argument again and again but he just continues to eat his breakfast. “But what do I know? Bees don’t need fences.”

“Bees don’t need fences.” Adam mimics, flicking a blueberry at him. It goes wide, sailing over Jack’s shoulder before it lands on the hardwoods. Jack, the bastard, just laughs, stupidly handsome in the morning light. “Why do I even bother?” Adam asks, but doesn’t move away when Jack presses their knees together under the table. Jack shrugs and takes a bite of oatmeal, and Adam finally takes a sip of the tea he fought so hard for. It’s perfect, because Jack always makes it exactly how Adam likes it. It’s endearing and annoying all at once.

Adam plays the _FRIENDS_ theme song in the truck on their way to the market in retaliation, because sometimes that’s all you can do when your boyfriend is thoughtful and doles out crucial financial advice to keep your dairy cows from wandering away.

It’s a busy day at the Providence Green Market. Jack’s stock is wiped out - he always underestimates how much he’ll sell - but luckily the crowd thins out an hour or so before closing. Adam’s just selling the last of his “Ewe Calf to be Kidding Me” blue cheese when Jack appears behind him, hand settling low on Adam’s back. He can feel the warmth of his partner’s palm through his shirt, and he can’t help leaning back to press against the contact.

“I have to run an errand but I’ll be back before the market closes.” Jack says, and he’s already on the other side of the table by the time Adam processes the news.

“You can’t just leave me here!” He calls out, but Jack just keeps walking, raising his hand in a wave goodbye. Adam rolls his eyes and turns back to his customer, a short blonde guy who’s looking up at him with big, brown eyes. “You see what I have to put up with?”

The customer laughs, adjusting the tote bag full of produce on his shoulder so he can cross his arms. “I know exactly how you feel. My boyfriend ditches me whenever I come over here.”

“Why’s that?” Adam asks, carefully transferring the cheese from the wire to the paper he’s placed on the cutting board.

“Oh, he’s weird about talking to people he admires. Apparently y'all are both hockey,” The man waves his hand in a vague gesture as he searches for the right word. “People?”

Adam huffs out a little laugh, looking down the cheese he’s wrapping. Jack’s past is more well known than his stint in Juniors, but every now and again some hardcore hockey fan realizes who they both were. “We used to be. Now we’re cheese people. Well, Jack’s a bee person. I’d sell you some of his honey but we’re all out.” He nods at the other half of the booth, where Jack’s neat display was laid out earlier in the day.

“I’ll have to come back next week, then. I’ve got a couple recipes I’ve been meaning to workshop that all need honey but I’m not sure which kind is best yet.” The man says as Adam tapes up the corners of the paper neatly. He handles it gently when Adam passes it to him, tucking it carefully on top of the other products in his bags.

Adam’s fingers fly over the calculator as he adds up the customer’s order. “I’ll make sure we set a couple jars aside for you, and you should bring your boyfriend. Jack will walk you through the best honey for different recipes and I always want to talk about hockey.” He explains, turning the calculator to show the man his total.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He reaches into the pockets of his - okay, those are _really_ short - shorts and digs out a neatly folded bill. “I’m Bitty, by the way,” he says as Adam counts out his change. “College nickname, but it stuck.”

“Hey, I was Holtzy for a few years so I know how you feel. You can call me that or Adam. The asshole who ditched me is Jack.” Adam explains with a smile. Bitty matches his expression as he collects his change and tucks it back into his pocket.

“That’s Justin, back there.” Bitty thumbs over his shoulder, gesturing towards a tall man who’s examining the books at Connor Whisk’s antiques stall. He’s got cheekbones that rival Jack’s and his full lips are turned up in a small smile as he carefully thumbs through the yellowed pages of an old book. “I’ll see you next week!” Bitty says, disrupting Adam’s staring with a cheerful wave. Adam blinks and somehow manages to wave back, watching as Bitty meanders through the thin crowd to end up at Justin’s side. Bitty goes onto his toes to whisper into to Justin’s ear, and as Adam watches his cheeks darken as he drops the book. Justin look back at Adam in shock, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, before he hurries away. Bitty laughs and chases after him. They look good together, in their bright clothing and easy smiles.

Yeah, Jack definitely has to meet them.

The final hour drags by as a few more people stop for samples. He doesn’t sell out of anything else, unfortunately, which means Jack’s going to gloat all night because they have to channel their competitive natures into something besides sports and board games.

When Jack returns he doesn’t offer an explanation but he does press a kiss to Adam’s cheek before he begins loading the coolers into the truck, and really, that’s all Adam needs. He wrestles Jack’s arm across the console during the drive home, lacing their fingers together while he sings along to the radio. When they reach the farm the move seamlessly into their routine: Jack unloads the truck while Adam heads to the barn, where a handful of needy goats and cows are waiting for him. By the time he’s finished there are muddy goat-prints covering his jeans, an ache in his lower back over and a scratch from the grouchy barn cat he always tries to pet on the back of his hand, but at least there’s food in the oven when he trudges back inside. Jack’s not in the kitchen or bedroom when Adam walks through to change, but when he comes back after a shower there’s plastic bag on the kitchen table.

It’s stuffed full, the white plastic stretched around the ninety degree corners that stick out in all directions. Adam ambles over, his long day and various aches and pains forgotten as he reaches inside. His calloused fingers close around smooth plastic and when he pulls the object out Rachel Green is staring out at him, her friends asleep around her. He reaches back in and pulls out another DVD case, then another, and another, until scattered seasons of his favorite shows are spread out on the kitchen table. _Community, FRIENDS, 30 Rock, The Office, Arrested Development, Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ and _Parks and Recreation_ are all there, as is one season of _The_ _Real Housewives of Atlanta_.

“Oh, no.” Jack’s disappointed voice cuts through the silent kitchen. When Adam turns he’s leaning against the door frame, toeing off his shoes. “I didn’t think you’d be done yet.” He’s frowning as he walks across the room, blue eyes narrowing. “You weren’t supposed to see until I had all the seasons.” Jack glares down at the DVD cases like they’ve betrayed him, and Adam reaches out to pull him in by the collar of his flannel.

“You remembered all my shows,” He says softly, the words murmured into the short distance between them. Jack just nods, and looks at Adam like he’s just said something stupid.

“You talk about them all the time.” Jack explains, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “Even in your sleep.” And, okay, that’s new information, but Adam doesn’t have time to process it. _Jack remembered his shows._ It shouldn’t be surprising, not really, because Jack’s absolutely right. He’ll ramble on about plot twists from seasons past or describe scenes in detail but as much and as loudly as he touts his opinion, he doesn’t ever assume someone’s actually listening to him.

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to try to explain, shakes his head, and then tilts his head forward to kiss Jack instead. Jack wraps a strong arm around his waist and holds him tight, only pulling back when the oven timer sounds. The shrill beeping continues even as Adam places another short kiss on Jack’s lips, then another on his cheek, an another on his forehead. Jack just squeezes his hip and hurries to the oven.

After dinner, a second shower, and a quick sheet change, Adam’s queued up the first episode of _Parks and Recreation._ “Now, bear with me through the first couple episodes, but I think you’ll like it after that.” He explains as Jack crawls into bed. “You’re like, an amalgamation of a bunch of these characters.” Adam lifts an arm so Jack can rest against his shoulder.

“I bear with you twenty four hours a day. I think I can handle thirty minutes.” Jack shoots back, and presses play before Adam can retaliate.

_“Hello. Hi. My name is Leslie Knope and I work for the Parks and Recreation department. Can I ask you a few questions?”_


End file.
